[Manor – Art Studio]
The light outside the window slowly shifted from the pale gold of early morning to the warm yellow of afternoon.
Noel sat on a soft couch in the studio, a thick ledger resting across his knees. The air smelled faintly of turpentine and old paper. Sunlight slanted through the window, scattering tiny specks of light across the fingers turning the pages.
He had been reading all morning.
Five years ago, his father had died suddenly.
Noel still remembered standing before the gravestone that day—his mother crying until she fainted, his younger sister clutching her skirt in confusion, not knowing what to do.
Back then, Noel swallowed every tear.
Ledgers replaced textbooks.
A fountain pen replaced the paintbrush.
He learned how to negotiate with merchants, how to handle family matters alone late at night, and how to quietly check his sister's room afterward to see if she had kicked off her blanket while sleeping.
Five years had passed.
He was used to it now.
"Brother, does this flower look right?"
Near the easel, twelve-year-old Alice was carefully painting petals, a small spot of paint on the tip of her nose.
Noel was just about to answer—
The door suddenly opened.
"Young master! Miss!"
A young servant stood at the door, breathing heavily.
"Madam asks that you come to the garden immediately."
Noel and Alice exchanged a glance.
Their mother had hardly left her room for years.
Why would she suddenly summon them?
"Is Mother… alright?" Alice asked quietly, gripping her skirt, worry filling her eyes.
Noel closed the ledger and took her hand.
Her small fingers trembled slightly, and the feeling tightened something in his chest.
"Don't worry," he said softly but firmly.
"I'm here."
[Manor – Garden]
When Noel stepped into the garden, he froze.
The once neglected flowerbeds had been carefully trimmed. Dead branches and fallen leaves were gone. Fresh seasonal roses had been planted in the soil, and even the weed-choked paths had been neatly cleared.
Their mother stood beside the fountain, wearing a light dress.
Her face carried a strange brightness—almost excitement.
When she saw them, she smiled.
It felt so unfamiliar that Noel almost didn't recognize her.
"Noel! Alice! Come here quickly!"
"Mother, you called for us?" Noel asked as he walked closer with Alice.
Their mother took their hands, joy lighting her face.
"Come, meet my lover. From now on, he'll be the one who stays by my side."
Noel and Alice both froze.
Her lover?
Their mother eagerly led them toward the man.
Noel looked up—
and stopped.
Just last month, this man had been wearing a dirt-stained apron, trimming bushes in the garden.
He had always kept his head down, silent like an ordinary gardener.
Now he wore a perfectly tailored suit.
His hair was neatly combed, and a bright pin decorated his collar.
He gave a slight nod, a polite smile resting on his lips.
"Hello, young master. Miss."
Noel stared at him.
The gardener had become their stepfather?
Their mother seemed not to notice his shock at all.
Instead, she gestured toward someone behind the man.
A boy stepped forward.
Fifteen or sixteen years old.
Black hair.
Skin pale and smooth like polished jade.
His features were refined and graceful, carrying a quiet hint of Eastern elegance.
He bowed slightly in a perfect aristocratic greeting.
When he raised his head, he smiled.
"Hello. I'm Elio Moreau. It's a pleasure to meet you, young master and miss."
Noel's heart skipped a beat.
He had to admit—
Elio was extraordinarily handsome.
Almost too perfect.
But something about the smile felt… strange.
From the curve of his lips to the glimpse of his teeth, everything looked as if it had been practiced many times.
An inexplicable unease stirred in Noel's chest.
Their mother pulled him to sit, and soon a small tea gathering began.
The sunlight was gentle.
A breeze drifted through the garden.
Their mother chatted happily with the man. Alice was occasionally amused and laughed.
But Noel's eyes kept drifting back to Elio.
He watched the boy lift his teacup—
his little finger slightly raised.
When he set the cup down, it made no sound.
Every movement was flawless.
He watched the way Elio nodded during conversation—
not too distant, not too eager.
Each reaction seemed perfectly measured.
The more Noel observed, the stranger it felt.
How could the son of a gardener carry himself with more elegance than a true aristocrat?
That smile—
so flawless during the tea party.
Yet somehow, the shadows of the garden felt more real… and more comforting than that smile.
[Noel's Bedroom]
Night.
Noel lay in bed, turning restlessly, unable to sleep.
Elio's smile kept replaying in his mind.
Finally, he slipped into his robe and quietly opened the door.
The night air was cool.
[Manor – Garden]
The garden was silent.
The lively chatter of the day had completely faded.
Noel walked slowly along the path.
When he passed the white rose bushes that had been trimmed earlier that day—
he stopped.
Under the moonlight, a figure stood before the roses.
Elio.
Noel held his breath and slipped into the shadows behind a bush.
Moonlight illuminated every movement.
Elio slowly twisted the blooming white roses from their stems, one by one.
He tossed them onto the ground and crushed them with the tip of his shoe.
There was no expression.
No sound.
The motion repeated again and again—mechanical, emotionless.
The moonlight fell across his face.
The same face that had looked perfect during the day now seemed cold as stone.
After a moment, he straightened up.
Without looking back, he walked away.
Noel waited a long time.
Only when the night fully swallowed the fading sound of footsteps did he step toward the roses.
White petals lay scattered across the ground, stained with soil and dew.
Like torn scraps of paper.
Noel looked down at the faint sweat dampening his palm.
He stood there for a long time without moving.